Igloo
by Wiggles123
Summary: Bender's optics narrowed to near slits. His voice became threateningly low and articulate. "You don't have an armpit rash. You only get rashes on your tushy and you know I know that." Frender/fender/fendship- a gay Fry and Bender thing.


Did he always have to flaunt and brag about his _(brand new, totally amazing, pretty-eyed, picture-perfect, I think she's the one for me)_ girlfriend whenever he could find someone desperate enough to stomach a date with him? It made Bender cringe to think about it. Fry and some coffee-shop broad out on a date, all blushy smiles and small talk, she plays with his hair or his jacket's zipper, the one that always gets stuck about half-way up, Fry giving her a squishy bear-hug, _kissing-_

The robot snorted and crossed his arms tighter across his barrelled chest. A billowing cigar dangled from his stout, silver fingers, the ash of it nearly burning a hole into the Planet Express couch cushion. A beer sat nearly untouched by his foot-cuffs. Bender's optics squinted toward the door as Fry anxiously paced beside it, ran a hand through his hair, and asked Bender to wish him good luck.

"I can't wait to see how things go with _Anita._ I have a good feeling about this one. She's got a tattoo of a Tom Petty look-alike! Maybe this time, I'll finally find someone who can make me happy... Welp, bye Bender. I gotta go meet my _date_ at the movies."

"Yeah, yeah. Just go..." Bender mumbled, but Fry was already out the door. His once angry-looking optics now curved downward into a pitiful expression. He sighed softly to himself. His spiteful train of thought seemed to now be traveling down a darker path; Fry would fall in love as humans tend to do, stay out most nights on dates instead of spending time with his best friend like usual, and Bender's luck just might become bad enough so that Fry would move in with her, and adopt a cat, (without even consulting or warning him, _for God's sake._ ) And after a few months of goo-goo eyes and scap-booking, he'd eventually get down on one knee like the romantic fool he was and ask to be her lawful husband. They'd have a beautiful wedding, move into a pretty little country home, have some slobbery, ugly kids and BOOM! Fry'd forget that Bender even exists. No happy ending for Bender, because robot men aren't exactly Fry's type. Soon enough, the robot couldn't help but to flick his cigar away and bury his visors into his small, shiny hands. If he wasn't crying, then he sure looked like he was. Why? Why did Fry put Bender through this? Couldn't he see what he was doing to him whenever he'd leave? For Bender, it was complete agony, a blade to the heart, utter abandonment if you asked him. "Stupid Fry. I could make you happy too." He weeped quietly, but not quietly enough, because he soon heard a shrill gasp that made him stop cold.

 _"You like Fry?!"_ Squeaked Amy from the doorway, rushing forward to press her accusation more urgently.

"Psh, No!" Bender growled defensively, heaving to a stand to poke a stubby digit in her face. "For your information, Wong, I was practicing for an audition as a side character on _"Barbershop Quartet: Brenda's Last Arpeggio!"_ It's my third favorite drama-musical, now get off my case!" He pivoted sharply toward the door so that he could make his proud, showy exit and leave Amy in awe at his fantastic suaveness, but was immediately cut short by a bratty giggle.

"Spleesh, Bender. I wasn't gonna tell anyone. Fry's a great guy, even if he sometimes smells like gas-station nacho cheese. Don't worry about it, your secret is safe with me. I promise"

"Hmrrmmm..." Bender grumbled, eyeing Amy skeptically, but something about her innocent expression made him soften up a bit. Besides, he knew he'd been caught red-handed. The robot cautiously returned to his place on the ragged couch and huffed, "Fine, but if you tell anyone at all, your ass is grass, y'hear me? You'll be deader than Abraham Lincoln's ghost after that dreadful moose-hunting accident, four score and 163 years ago. And I mean it!"

"Oh hush." She rolled her dark, almond eyes, "I promised didn't I? These lips are sealed." Amy spun gracefully to leave the room, calling back "I won't tell a soul." Yet, as the Martian passed Turanga Leela on her way into the conference room, she smartly seized her muscular arm. "Leela, you've just got to hear this..."

Two days had passed, but to Bender it seemed like two weeks. Amy knew his deep, dark, shameful secret, and he was beginning to suspect that she'd leaked it, because whenever he and Fry would sit close to one another at work, they'd always get three wide, assuming eyes watching them intently. But Bender wouldn't dare bring it up and sell himself out. He'd just have to restrain (or rather, _smother_ ) his confrontational side and keep quiet. His poor, artificial nerves were on edge.

There was one point in the day when Bender's anxiety was truly off the charts. He and Fry had just made their way to the small table to play GoFish, when a certain mutant cleared her throat and elbowed Fry in the shoulder.

"Hey, um, Fry? I need to ask you something..."

"Oh, okay. What is it, Leela?" Fry smiled dumbly up at her, unaware that the robot across from him was having a complete panic attack.

"Well, I kinda need to tell you in the other room for... tax purposes..." Leela lied cheaply, blinking hard at the red-head, hoping that he'd get the message.

"No, you don't. You don't need to ask him any questions. You don't even need to be here! Kindly screw off, Big Boots!" Bender interjected frantically, hands splayed out on the table.

"Oh, relax Bender. I'll be right back. It's just for tax purposes." Fry promised earnestly and his chair was already scraping over the wood floor before Bender'd had the chance to object. The robot's hands clamped and unclamped restlessly. This couldn't be good, no sir. If Bender had a heart, it'd be exploding. Leela shut the door behind them.

As superhuman as Bender's hearing was, the only sounds he could pick up on were nearly-muted murmurs, radiating almost silently through the door from somewhere else in the building. He could only hear fractions of words and phrases, and even that was enough to make him shiver.

 _"I...'ell you some... on't freak out... gotta... 'mis me" Began Leela._

 _"...You talking ab... ought this... tax purp..." Fry replied, slightly louder._

 _"Shhh! …'king way too loud... Ender's gonna real... 'spect someth..."_

 _"Wha... s'this haffta... ooh... Ben..?" Fry asked speculatively. There was a pause._

 _"Let... sper it … to your ear... that nobuh... hear me." Said Leela, and then there was a significantly longer pause. A gut-wrenching pause. Bender almost ripped off his own arm._

 _"No... No tha'... ee true." Fry answered slowly. "Amy must... 'staken"_

 _"I don't think so, Fry."_ Leela explained, no longer trying to muffle her voice. _"But it might just a silly rumor. She's not a very reputable source. She once told Hermes that I wear a medium tee for men."_

 _"Well, don't you?"_

 _"For your information, it's a_ large _tee for men, now go! Get back before he starts to think something's up!"_ Leela urged.

 _"B-but, Leela I-"_

 _"Just GO!"_

Fry returned reluctantly to the room where Bender was grating his thick fingers into the underside of the table. A few of the cards in the pack had been ripped to shreds, and were sprinkled on the floor. Fry really didn't have a poker face. His disturbed, doey-eyed expression made any of the hopes that Bender was clinging to plummet into the blackest, most unsalvageable layer of Hell.

"Heyyyyy, buddy." Fry half-smiled awkwardly. "How 'bout you shuffle. I'm not as good at it..."

The walk home was awfully noiseless. Usually, Fry would spark up some conversation about if grape-soda is okay in a waffle-cone or how can that hairy biker look so much like Rosie O'Donnell, or something spontaneous like that, but tonight he was wordless, hardly sneaking a peek at Bender from the corner of his eye every now and then as they traveled back to the apartment.

Fry shut the door behind him very slowly, and reached to flip on the light-switch in the shadowy room, as if avoiding the inevitable, dragging his feet, stalling. Bender stood listlessly a few feet away, observing Fry's actions with scrutiny. At that point, he would do anything to have psychic powers and read what was going on inside of Fry's big, dumb head. He knew he had to break the ice if he wanted to get a clue about what Fry had heard from Leela. He couldn't be too subtle, (subtlety was often lost on Fry,) but he couldn't be too obvious either.

"So, Fry, how'd that date go with, uh, whatserface a couple days ago? I never did hear the yay or nay on that chick." He offered tenuously, trying to shift his posture and tone so that he appeared uninterested. Fry startled at the sound of Bender's voice and bit his lip, then avoided eye contact as he scratched the back of his neck. What could Bender be getting at?

"Anita? Aw, she was wonderful- until she tried to sell me _real estate._ Seems to happen every time a lady asks me out using a glossy pamphlet." Fry sighed, "Too good to be true."

"Aw, that's too bad." Bender feigned sympathy, studying his bent fingertips, "But there's always another bimbo-fish in the sea."

"I don't think that's the expression."

"Whatever. The point is, ya don't need her. And speaking of broads you don't need, what the hell did Leela ask you before we played cards this morning?" Bender sprung the question, crossing his arms and glaring incriminatingly. He decided that asking politely was not going to get him anywhere fast enough.

Fry stammered and his eyes darted to the side. "N-nothing. She just wanted to know if... my armpit rash was bothering me. Yeah, that's all, mmm-hmmm." A cold sweat broke from his forehead.

Bender's optics narrowed to near slits. His voice became threateningly low and articulate. "You don't have an armpit rash. You only get rashes on your tushy and _you know I know that."_ Bender had that same look on his face as that time when Fry tried to run away and be in the circus. Fry remembered the expression far too well, except this time he was seeing it eye-to-eye, not from a cowering stance in the corner of a stripey tent. Fry got such a beating that day, (to the mantra of " _You had me worried sick who do you think you are I'll kill you you bastard I couldn't find you for two whole days where did you think you were going why did you pull a stunt like that don't you know that's dangerous-"_ ) And he had a bad feeling that this might end in the same fashion if he didn't fess up soon.

"Bender, look, this is really uncomfortable to say..." Fry started, exhaling pointedly and staring down at his worn-out shoes. Bender tapped his foot-cuff, impatient.

"I'm listening."

"Leela told me something that I don't think is true. But I guess it's important, and I really have to ask you about it." Fry mumbled, waiting to hear a response, but when none came, he sighed again. "Bender, Leela thinks you might, um, have a- a bit of a crush... on me."

 _'THAT NOGOOD-DIRTYROTTEN HUSSY!'_ Bender bit back a howl and quickly turned his uncontainable rage and hatred outward. _"WHAT?!_ No! That's ridiculous!" He spat viciously staring daggers at poor Fry, then roughly grabbed the front of his stained tee-shirt. "Why on Earth or any other goddamn planet would _anyone_ be in love with _you?!_ You can't even tie your own shoes! You're a full grown man who can't do a thing for himself! You're stupid, lonely and on top of that you're a huge crybaby _and_ you're ugly as sin! How _dare_ you even think that I have a thing for you, you lousy sack'a flesh?!"

Bender panted like a bull, shirt still gnarled in his fist, fully expecting Fry to get pissed off and shoot some bullets back at him. He was more than ready to fight for his heterosexuality, integrity and reputation. He wanted to feel his chest burn, he wanted a reason to throw a punch, a reason to despise the thing he adored so intensely. But he was caught off guard when there was no fission in the human's eyes, but instead a pool of murky tears.

 _Oh no!_

He gradually released the clothing from his grip upon staring up into those ingenuous, hazel eyes that seemed so hurt and betrayed. The robot then gulped and took a slow step back. The room was unsettlingly silent and blindingly bright all of the sudden. Fry's back was firmly pressed against the door, and he appeared as though he'd just been told some devastating news, with his mouth slightly open and curved down at the corners, watery eyes and a slouched stance against the door-frame. It was a pitiable, heart-wrenching image indeed. Bender, on the other hand, stood away from him, folding his thin, silver arms and masking an ashamed expression with an angry one. He watched helplessly as Fry straightened out his shirt and hair, then sluggishly, in a trance-like manner, bypassed the robot and disappeared into his bedroom. The sound of the door shutting softly behind him almost made Bender feel like he could shatter into a thousand pieces.

Naturally, he threw his hands up in the air, exasperated, and began complaining to himself "Oh, what a good show. Great. Perfect. _Just perfect!_ Look watcha did, Bender. Ya made'm cry. Good job!" Bender ranted sarcastically, marching in little agitated circles for a few minutes. "He's overreacting! I didn't do nothin' wrong! I didn't even _hit_ the kid! _He's_ the one accusing people of things! What was I supposed'ta do? _Be honest?_ Well that ain't happenin' brother! Uh-uh no way! And I am not apologizing. Never. I'm right, he's stupid, he doesn't deserve my apology!"

Bender then caught a glimpse of Fry's door, and something inside him snapped sickeningly. _('Oh no, you hurt him, you hurt your boy, you really hurt him awful bad he's in a whole lotta pain and crying and it's all your fault, Bender, you saw that face, oh no fix it, he's your Fry you have to fix it-')_ Bender groaned and held his head in his hands. He immediately knew he was defeated. He had to admit it, he went way too far. Whether Fry was asking for it or not, he said too much. But he couldn't just waltz in there with a half-baked "Sorry, Meatbag" and expect Fry to worship him again. What could he do?

Bender's little tray looked quite spectacular in his opinion. It was split into four equal sections; Cookies in the bottom right corner, some chips on the bottom left, a small bowl of melted chocolate chips and marshmallows in the top left corner and a can of slurm to the right of it. Ah, geometrically pleasing and delicious for the big, pudgy goof. He'd seen Fry stuff these things in his face-hole before, so he assumed that this would be a good way to get Fry to love him again. Plus, according to that article he found online, the best way to a man's heart was through his stomach, and as confusing as that was at first (because Bender knew the organs of the human body fairly well, and was almost positive that there were no passageways between the heart and stomach,) he eventually realized that it was referring to feeding a human to pry affection from them.

Bender carried the tray in his gyroscopically-stable hand and pushed the door open with the other. When Fry saw the door crack, he hid his face with his pillow, unwilling to look at him. The robot sighed, and held the tray up like a game show prize.

"Meatbag, I got somethin' for ya." He half-whispered, kneeling down to Fry's level. Fry didn't budge. He wasn't exactly in the mood to talk. Bender moaned, "Aow, c'mon, don't be like that. You know I didn't mean it, Fry..."

Fry sniffled slightly and sat up. His hair was a mess and his face was pink. It was profoundly cute to Bender, who could barely refrain from smiling. "You didn't?" Rasped Fry, and Bender sat down beside him on the bed.

"Naow, of course not. Look I..." Bender clenched his optics shut, "I'm sorry. Really. You're my best friend, _I love ya_ , and I was just kinda mad and all that horsepucky, yadda yadda yadda eat your cookies, dumbass." He glared away and handed him the little platter. It wasn't going exactly how he'd practiced, but it was going pretty smooth nonetheless. He could feel his metallic face overheating because of all this mushy bullcrap that made him want to upchuck in a potted plant.

"Aww, Bender you didn't have to do this for me." Fry murmured gratefully. Bender still refused to look at him. Apologizing was for sissies and that was an indisputable fact.

"Yeah, yeah." Bender garbled and began to stand back up. "Don't think too much of- _aeck!"_ Bender gasped when he felt warm, squishy arms clamp around his middle and yank his shiny metal ass back onto the mattress. "Hey, what's the big idea?!"

Fry suddenly kissed Bender's burning cheek, causing his optics to pop open wide and glow bright amber in the dimly-lit bedroom. "Thanks, Bender. This means a lot." He thrummed, arms remaining wrapped around the robot's body. "Hmmm...Hey, did I ever tell you that you're kinda like an igloo sometimes?"

Bender, still basking in the electric buzz of Fry's affection, shook out some of the cloudy numbness in his mind to shoot him a dirty look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I dunno. It's just that you remind me of a field-trip I went on in fourth grade to this big model-igloo. It seemed like it would be really cold inside, but when I stepped in, it felt pretty warm. I liked that trip... Except for when Donald Winkler stole my yogurt cup. Man, I hated that kid."

"Isn't he the one that put a tarantula in your sock, and you had to go to the E.R.?" Bender inquired, casually slipping an arm around Fry's waist.

"That's the guy." Fry answered through pursed lips. "The meanest elementary-schooler that ever walked. I never even got to pants him back after that gym class incident."

"A true diabolical genius, he was." Bender chuckled and repayed the kiss onto Fry's forehead. "Now eat the frickin apology-cookies, you ingrate."

 _ **THE END**_


End file.
